Under The Bridge

It's sure damn time I purged my thoughts via this magical connection to the online world again. I miss writing, and am beginning to wish that I had more of an outlet artistically than simply strumming a guitar every now and again. It's like working out, if one abstains from the grind of pushing words onto a medium for too long, you can't flex. In short- I'm beginning to appreciate the multi-faceted city I live in. In long... I've been feeling extremely connected to the city I'm bound to as of late. If I ever get the chance to move, I'm not sure how far I'd go. Pensacola has this magical binding that somewhat enchants me the more I learn about her. Out of the cities of the South, Pensacola boasts some strange amalgum of best beach town and dirtiest po' dunk. I live closer to the 'dunk. It hit home when monsoon season happened last week. Just like when Ivan tore this city apart and my family housed 2 others, the rain got bad this time. Many of my friends have water damage again, and my roof leaked (ironically) right where I was sitting. Good stuff. The smell that permeated the thick fog of swamp and oak could literally sting a Northern nose. It probably doesn't help that I'm about a mile from a huge water basin, but the humidity was like a bath, and I'm glad I enjoy it that way. Apart from rusting harmonicas and fence hinges, the stickiness of the air still feels like a warm embrace from the city I'm slowly growing to love. A lot of people would probably think me insane for enjoying something like humidity, but it's a sense of truth that I can't really find in many other places. Everything nowadays seems very fake or point-driven, and it's refreshing to have to deal with something so real and universally tying as bad weather. People in Indonesia know what I'm talking about. I don't care how much money you have, your morals, your friend count on Facebook or your level of education. If it's raining you're going to get wet, and I love that. There's no subtle advertisement in weather, and if you really hate the rain you could use some nature-bonding. Some of the greatest childhood memories I have are when the weather got bad and everyone had to huddle together, if brief, still tugs at soul strings. Pensacola gets plenty of those moments. I work downtown, so I get to see that side of Pensacola too. I have massive windows off Barrancas that permit some people-watching, if brief due to the advent of bicycles. It's nice to gawk at the residents of the east-industrial area. Sandwiched between 'beautiful downtown Pensacola' and the working man's ghetto, the people of the street are almost iconic. It's what I would imagine our neighbors in Alabama typically see on the daily. We have a massive black community, but it's mostly old guys downtown. As a rabid blues fan, I can almost always hear BB or Alby King somewhere in the background on my lunch breaks as I pedal around smellin' for something good to eat. (Then I end up at Patti's buying fish anyway, haha) The last part of this Franken-city that's somewhat stitched into the southern side along the Gulf Coast is Pensacola Beach. It's a completely different lifestyle out there, and I see why my mama wanted a piece of it. Laid back and breezy, Pensacola Beach always has something going on. Blues on the Beach, every other seafood festival, and the Blue Angels keep the beach perpetually happening. The taste of saltwater will loom somewhere in the back of my mind for a long time, and I'll be impressed as hell if I ever find softer sand somewhere else. I kinda... I think ...I love Pensacola... Oh god I'm one of 'those' now. I have GOT to start visiting other cities.